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Somewhere in the last six months, his occasional requests have turned into a near-constant demand for my attention. Five-thirty emails. “Quick questions” at midnight. Meetings that suddenly require my presence the moment another department needs me. I'm beginning to wonder how he managed to run this company before I got here, considering he now seems incapable of going an entire afternoon without finding some reason to summon me to his office.
The company phone thy got me was his idea, of course.
Apparently, I'm the only assistant who's ever been issued one, which means he can reach me whenever he pleases.
And he does.
At this point, my body reacts to his ringtone before my brain does, which honestly feels less like a professional standard and more like psychological conditioning.
I was trying very hard not to think about that while trapped beside the elevators with Barry from accounting. He was the type of man who wore too much cologne and spoke with a confidence that didn't match his face. For the last fifteen minutes, he'd been talking about his new car, his promotion, and apparently, how much better my life would be if I let him take me out.
“Anyway,” he said, flashing a smile. “Dinner Friday?”
“Barry, I would literally rather schedule my own Pap smear.”
He laughed. “Damn, that's cold.”
“Cold would've been filing a complaint with HR.”
“Come on, Sloane. I'm trying to be nice here.” He moved closer, planting his palm against the wall beside my head. “You could at least give me a chance.”
I glanced at his arm, then back at him. “And you could give me some personal space. Looks like we're both going to be disappointed today.”
He didn't move.
“You know, you don't have to play hard to get. It's just dinner.”
“Barry, I'm not playing anything. I said no.”
“Jesus, what's your problem? I can't even ask a woman out anymore?”
“You can ask. What you can't do is keep asking after she's turned you down. Now, if you don't mind—”
“Mr. Claremont.”
Nate's voice cut through the corridor.
Barry immediately dropped his arm. “Mr. Blackwell. Didn't see you ther. Sloane and I we were just talking.”
“Were you?” Nate's attention moved from Barry to me, then back again. “Because from where I was standing, Ms. Harper appeared to be trying to end the conversation.”
“I was just asking her to dinner.”
“And she declined. So I fail to see why this conversation is still happening.”
Barry's smile disappeared. “Look, I wasn't trying to cause any problems.”
“Yet you've managed to create one.”
“Mr. Blackwell,” I interjected. “I've got it.”
He barely acknowledged me.
“Mr. Claremont, when an employee declines a personal invitation, I expect that decision to be respected. I don't care whether you're in accounting, marketing, or sitting on my board. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Then I suggest you return to your department.”
